The Waiting Place
by KariAnn1222
Summary: Now COMPLETE! When Ron and Hermione are forced prematurely into an act of intimacy out of necessity to save her life following an accident, will they be prepared to handle the consequences? Half-Blood Prince subplot, interweaves with canon. **WINNER! Best AU, Best Ron, & Best Hermione in the 2012 Romione Awards!**


Just a quick note to those who might still be subscribing to me to inform you that **The Waiting Place **is **COMPLETE** & the final chapter has been posted. As always, the link to TWP's new home may be found in my author's profile at this site. Thank you for your continued support.

(Yes, I realize that these types of notes aren't allowed. Report me if you feel so inclined, but it would be a useless endeavor seeing as how I plan on deleting this soon anyway.)

-Kari

**A short preview of the final chapter:**

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, I have a couple of ideas. Have you ever heard of the Muggle children's game, Hide and Seek? I used to play it at my nana's with my cousins, and it was always more exciting during storms." Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched away, disappearing behind another row of shelves and leaving Ron to scratch his head in bewilderment.

"Hermione?"

"Close your eyes, count to twenty, and come and find me," her voice drifted toward him, punctuated by a flash of lightning from the storm raging outside.

"You're one strange bird, you know that," he called back, but he was grinning like a bloody idiot as he closed his eyes as instructed and began counting aloud. Feeling a bit ridiculous but undeniably excited—his heart was racing inexorably in his chest—Ron started off in the direction she'd disappeared once he'd finished counting, his wand held high to light the way.

At first he encountered nothing but more dusty books, the fact of which caused a spike of anxiety to pierce his heart, and, as improbable as it was, he couldn't help but think about the possibility of Death Eaters lurking in the shadows, ready to strike at any moment. He was on the verge of calling out for her again, but his fears were forgotten in the next instant when he happened upon an article of clothing draped over a book protruding from the shelf: It was a bra.

Feeling a bit astounded—Hermione was certainly in an adventurous mood this evening, wasn't she?—he retrieved it and studied it just long enough to see that it was red and lacy, and certainly a far cry from the virginal under things he'd previously seen her wear.

"Shite," he muttered while hastily stuffing the undergarment into the pocket of his jeans, his heart thudding harder than ever and an erection beginning to take form in his trousers; he was forced to adjust himself for comfort's sake as he continued on, his gaze sweeping across the dusty floor between the rows of shelves for more "clues" she might've left him, shining his wandlight into nooks and crannies…

He felt a bit like he an animal on the prowl for his prey, and, like she'd promised, it was…well, it was bloody exciting—and all his "excitement" was centered in the appendage between his legs at the thought that Hermione was, at that very moment, braless and waiting for him somewhere in the dark.

After another minute or so of searching, his heart about stopped dead in his chest when he stumbled upon a pair of knickers unceremoniously discarded on the floor, and, once he'd stooped to snatch them up, he found that they were made of the same lacy material as the bra. Unable to resist the impulse despite how pervy he knew it was, Ron pressed the lacy material to his nose, breathing in her familiar musky scent that sent a jolt straight to his cock. _Fuck. _And now she didn't have any sodding knickers on. What the bloody fuck was the brilliant, barmy witch trying to do to him, anyway? Send him around the twist in the best possible way?

A bluish glow over the high shelf suddenly catching his attention, he shoved the lacy garment in the pocket opposite the bra before hurrying down the long aisle. He caught sight of her just before he stepped out from between the shelves, his eyes hungrily absorbing her: Hermione was perched precariously on the end of a desk set against the wall, several of her blue ball flames hovering in the air around her and bathing her in their soft glow.

His heart raced in his chest to see that her dress was unbuttoned almost to her navel, her smallish, perfectly plump tits spilling out of it, and in the soft glow he saw that her nipples were enticingly puckered against the chill in the air, and she was abso-fucking-lutely perfect.

To put the icing on the mother-effing cake, the hem of her dress was hiked up around her hips, and her thighs were splayed wide, affording him a clear view of her succulent, inviting pussy. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. _He couldn't help but notice that she was still wearing the high-heeled sandals that she'd borrowed from her mum, and she looked good enough to eat. Literally.

"You caught me," she said simply, her nervous smile at odds with her seductive pose that left zero doubt that she was blatantly offering herself to him.

He swallowed in a hard gulp. "I'm betting this isn't how you played the game when you were little."

"Honestly, are you going to make jokes, or are you going to claim your prize?"

oOo

Wanna read more? The link to **The Waiting Place** may be found in my author's profile at this site.


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